Man Up and Bring out the Balls

Man Up and bring out the Balls!

 

Lying in my bed, half naked, legs spread and akimbo, groin strap firmly in place and high to my eyeballs on morphine… I have had some time to reflect recently.

I have just spent the last few days recovering from surgery on my testicles, which has given me some space to think about life, death, the ‘Irish Man Affliction’ and the real meaning of bravery! 

MARCH. . .

In the run up to a manic few months from March- June 2011, I could

notice something different in my body. I was experiencing discomfort

and mild pain in my testicles. Now, I would count myself as fairly brave;

 throw me off a 100m bungee, down the mighty Zambezi in a raft or

swimming in cage surrounded by great white sharks and I’m your man,

 but the sight of lumps, bumps or a drop of blood sends me into a quivering

 wreck.

Upon further investigations ‘downstairs’ I could definitely feel ‘something’. At the time I was trying to do a lot of running and put it down to injury as a result of that. It would go away I convinced myself. It didn’t. It got bigger and more inconveniencing. Maybe it was a hernia? A sports injury? A figment of my imagination? Whatever it was this was not the time for me to have it and certainly not the time for me to deal with it! I would deal with it next week. I didn’t.

In Zambia I have minimal health insurance and getting medical treatment can be timely and costly. When buying food each week is a challenge, I couldn’t justify spending money on scans and whatever other tests may be suggested. And, as I mentioned earlier ‘This was really not a good time’. Definitely next month!

If I could just make it past the next Barefeet event, or better still wait till my planned trip to Ireland in July I could sort everything out then. I didn’t.

JULY. . .  .

Trips home are a mixture of catching up with various friends and family. Time is precious and just enough to skirt the surface. It certainly wasn’t the time for downstairs issues. I would deal with it later. Tomorrow. I didn’t.

  I would keep my head stuck firmly in the procrastination pit,   where it was comfortable and very familiar.

 

  I was almost on my return flight back to a very busy period in   Zambia, and was firstly staying with a very good friend in   London. As a present for my upcoming 30th Birthday she had   organised a hotel in Brighton for a night beside the sea.

  The night before I was staying at her house in London and was   working until 4am on a very imminent funding proposal. I   remember being extremely stressed and trying desperately to   finish so I could sleep.

 At the same time I was trying to ignore the burning/ swelling sensation in my testicles.  A familiar, irritating discomfort that was rapidly getting worse. My testicles felt like they were not on fire or about to burst!

Panic. Should I wake my friend? Should I call an ambulance? At this stage a terrible, familiar instinct kicks in for me, the ‘Irish Man Affliction’ (I.M.A). That feeling of embarrassment and unease at facing ANY medical condition. ‘What if it turns out to be nothing!’, ‘I don’t want to make a fuss’ (I am sure variations of the ‘Irish Man Affliction’ are common to many men and women across the globe). The thought of arriving alone and announcing to the staff at the A&E in London that my ‘balls were exploding’ was definitely going to test my I.M.A. So instead I did nothing.

I tried to sleep, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with one resolute Sinead O’ Connor tear running down my defeated and terrified face. Whatever this was, I didn’t have time for it right now! I would go to A & E in the morning. I didn’t.

Got train to Brighton next day (didn’t want to disappoint my friend), but gently brought up the subject that I now physically couldn’t move and was pretty sure I needed a doctor. Testicles felt like they wee trying to escape from my body (for female readers, this is not a pleasant feeling). Sinead O Connor tears now a veritable waterfall. Maybe now was the time to do something about it? After almost 6 months.

 I did.

 

We hobbled to the walk in clinic at Brighton. I’m sure this wasn’t

 how my friend had envisaged our expensive seaside retreat.

Three hours later, trousers down, the doctor met me and my

 enhanced ‘package’ with a vocal ‘WOW!’.

Having been careful to bury my head in the sand for ages, I had

not actually properly looked at developments downstairs properly in the cold light of day. The reality was that, in the doctor’s own words I had ‘the appearance of having three testicles’. ‘How long have you had this?’

‘Ummmm’… having to vocalise it for the first time made me realise how stupid I had been.

The Doctor told me I needed to see a specialist and get some tests to investigate. For the first time the word I had feared was mentioned; ‘cancer’.

Problems ensued trying to find Urologist in London (that I could afford). My parents were fantastic and got me an appointment with my GP back in Ireland. So flight back to Zambia and my 30th party all postponed it was time to bring my head up from the sand and face reality.

The next week was a mixture of GP appointments and trying to get a meeting with the specialist/ Ultrasound. When I did see the Urologist everything was very matter of fact. He said that there was obviously something there, I needed to have an ultrasound and if there were even a shadow of anything he would cut off my testicle on the Friday afternoon. Sharp intake of breath from my father and me. Suddenly all those ‘tomorrows’ and ‘next weeks’ were looking foolish and futile.

I was very fortunate to get an appointment for an Ultrasound soon after. As I was lying on the bed, whilst he took pictures I was truly lamenting my procrastination and cowardice for not tackling the whole incident much sooner. Had I not let it carry on for so long I perhaps wouldn’t have let myself get to this stage. I thought about the definite advice I would give to a friend or to my brother. I.M.A or not, job pressure or not your health and your life deserves your primary attention.

 

It was the longest 20 minutes I have experienced in a long time. Finally the doctor broke the silence by telling me all the masses were benign. That I had a cluster of cysts that had bled into each other with the possibility of some strangulated tissue. He said that the urologist would advise treatment.

  I left the hospital without any sense of relief. I think the pressure that I had   unconsciously been carrying was to take days to pass before I felt any sense   of relief at all! Had I faced the issue in good time and not been a coward I   wouldn’t have tainted 6 months of my life with stress. Had I faced it early   and the diagnosis been different I would also have had many more options.

  It was decided that I would have to have the cysts surgically removed. So I   went back to Lusaka and spent an awkward and uncomfortable 5 months on   the waiting list until I got my date for the operation.

DECEMBER . .  . .

On Friday I had all my cysts removed in an operation in Coleraine hospital, and have just spent the last few days recovering.  Everything went really well and despite being tender and delicate, I definitely feel a lot lighter now! The surgeon said he removed

 one the size of a ping-pong ball! (Another unfortunate I.M.A. trait is the need to boast when you have suffered).

Maybe it’s the Celine Dion album that my mother is playing (on repeat) in the kitchen,

the fantastic messages from friends or perhaps the last remnants of that hospital

morphine but I really wanted to write this down. My friend told me that he went to get

 something checked after I told him about my problem. It feels important to spread

 information (especially to others afflicted with I.M.A).

I think checking yourself out frequently and facing things head on is crucial. That’s the brave thing to do. I was very lucky but I have definitely learnt a lesson. And as soon as I ditch my crotch strap, dry out from the morphine and get back on my feet, I’m going to make sure in 2012 there is one more Brave Irish Man (Might need better acronym than B.I.M.) advocating to ‘Man up and bring out the balls’.

Adam McGuigan  18/12/11

Great Campaigns:

http://www.emaxhealth.com/1275/check-yo-nutz-testicular-cancer-campaign-launched.html

http://everyman-campaign.org/Testicular_Cancer